


Grocery Run

by MurielleLibrary



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Barbara needs a hug, F/M, Patching things up, Strickler has issues, a very bad pun that I am very proud of, driving around town, minor cameos from various people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurielleLibrary/pseuds/MurielleLibrary
Summary: Barbara notices something when Walter introduces himself to Merlin. She has concerns about the whole situation in general and drags Walt on a drive to talk some things out.No, I can't ever be consistent in calling him Walt/Walter/Strickler/Stricklander, but I swear there is a method to it. Title is garbage, how do title?
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Grocery Run

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I lost this somewhere in the middle, but taking a 6 month break from writing does that to a person.

He knelt before the great mage Merlin, the excitement clear in his voice, as if meeting a cherished author or childhood hero.

"Waltolemew Stricklander. Well, Strickler for short. I've been mentoring the Trollhunt-"

"Spare me the life story. Now and forever, _changeling_."

It was brief. Barbara thinks if she blinked she would have missed it. The look of _hurt_ on Walt's face. It rubbed her wrong. All wrong. She hadn't forgiven him for anything… yet. Maybe. But. For that brief moment he had reminded her of a kicked dog. And that made her start to worry.

She walked out into the dining room, carrying plates for this new house guest. Merlin was… -Merlin. The _actual_ Merlin- was a strange old man. Clad in armour that bore enough resemblance to Jim's that she didn't question much about his identity or his part in all this, and he addressed her concerns when asked… sort of.

Barbara glanced up, a small glow catching her eye. There, reflected in the toaster, she saw the golden flash of Walt's changeling eyes. His face twisted and not just from the impromptu mirror's distortion. He was… angry? Sad? It was hard to tell. Upset. 

No one else had noticed, the kids too intent on Merlin and Merlin too intent on breakfast.

"Walt?" she said quietly, sliding back into the kitchen.

He turned, and was all the soft, hesitant smiles that he had been giving her since his return. But his eyes. His eyes were tired.

"More omelettes? We shall have to move on to just toast soon, unless the young heroes have brought a **_merl-hen_** home with them as well." His attempt a levity flew over much like said domesticated chicken. Poorly. He hadn't even mustered an apologetic laugh at his own joke.

Barbara's lips quirked to the side, as she considered a moment before making an executive decision. Leaning over into the dining room, she jangled her keys at her son to get his attention.

"Hey kiddo, Walt and I are gunna go get some groceries. The usuals, just stocking up for our additional… guests."

"Hm?" Jim looked up at her, talking around a cheek full of omelette. His eyes slid to Strickler briefly. "You sure, Mom?"

"We'll be fine. Back in a jiffy."

Before anyone could say anything further, Barbara hooked her arm in Walter's, dragged him down the hall, out the door and into the car. He had made a few surprised squawks, but hadn't fought it. Once in the vehicle, she focused her attention on backing out while he sat with the quiet obedience and nervous caution of a man waiting for the other shoe to drop. They both remained quiet for a while.

"Please allow me to pay. Your household is being uninvitedly put upon, feeding this growing little army, and I have plenty of… funds." Walt said, breaking the silence. He was mostly looking out the side window, fiddling absently with a button on his jacket.

"Sounds fair." She replied, turning left when she should have gone right.

"Ah… Barbara…?"

"I know." She interrupted. Driving a few blocks, she pulled over next to a small park. Some old folks were playing chess in a gazebo. "Walt. We are going to talk. Now."

"Ah-alright… Of course. You undoubtedly have every reason to be angry. I just suddenly reappear, clearly against your expressed wishes… And as it was during your memory lapse it is obvious to infer I was taking advantage of the situation..."

He was rambling. And nervous. He often did ramble when he was genuinely nervous. Putting up a wall of words in a misguided attempt to shield himself from what came next.

"Not about that." She said and turned off the engine. Barbara now had a vague recollection of the real night he had left. The night they were attacked. She did remember being angry at him. Angry enough to have said things like that. And maybe she was still kind of angry, hitting him with a broom _had_ felt good even if it was supposed to be play acting. "Not right now anyway. I mean about what just happened. In the kitchen between you and Merlin."

He blinked, then a hesitant sort of relief slid across his face quickly followed by that tired, closed off look. "Ah. Aha, yes. Well, You know me. Simply trying to ingratiate myself."

"Walter. Everyone is saying this guy is going to fix everything. They are asking me to entrust my son's _welfare_ to him." She explained, turning to face him. "Now I'm not saying you're exactly the best judge, because lord knows Jim's welfare hasn't always been on your mind… but that look on your face back there. You weren't simply put out because he rejected you. You were _hurt_ and that has me wondering if something is _wrong_ about this new guy."

No one could accuse Waltolemew Stricklander of being unable to think on his proverbial feet. This was clearly meant to be about Jim, but something shifted dangerously in his chest to know she had… noticed? ...cared?

"No. No. Oh, heavens no. That had nothing to do with Jim or his safety. Merlin is one of the greatest of all sorcerers. A brilliant strategist and advisor of the court at Camelot… a-hm. That is… You understand that I am a changeling." He paused, and she nodded. As he continued, he fell into a natural rhythm, years of explaining history to many ears. His hands steepled out of habit, then slowly dipped downwards as he spoke. "Morgana is the original creator of changelings. The 'Mother of Monsters'. A powerful sorceress who studied under Merlin himself and then betrayed Camelot to side with the Gumm-Gumms. To acknowledge me is to acknowledge changelings and to acknowledge changelings would be acknowledging Morgana. Merlin would never… No, I was a fool to think otherwise. A… miscalculation on my part. Nothing is _wrong_ , Barbara."

If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she might not have noticed the minuscule tremor of his thumbs. He _had_ been hoping for it to be otherwise. She was not always sure of things lately, but she was very sure of that. Nothing was _wrong_ with Merlin brushing him aside because of _what he is?_

Walt, Blinky and the kids had briefly explained about changelings during the parental crash course in What The Hell Was Going On, and they were clearly a point of contention. She had no trouble accepting the idea Walt might not personally be trustworthy, that went without saying, but something about it all left a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Much like this Merlin thing.

"That... doesn't mean he had to be so rude."

"Rude? A cold shoulder is simply to be expected. Compared to what even the best of Trolls call us… Impure. Two-face. Child-taker. Half-breed. And that one isn't even technically correct." He laughed, but there was little humor in it. The Pale Lady herself had called him such names, once he had lost her favor. The vault of his fingers collapsed as he threaded his fingers and clasped his hands together. "I'd say he was relatively polite."

"Walt." Barbara reached out, placing her hand gently on his. "I have never hated you for what you are."

"No." He said, taking her hand. He brought it up, as if to kiss it in that gentlemanly way he had done many times before. But he stopped short, gliding his thumb across her fingers. He smiled wistfully as he looked at their joined hands. "Every ounce of rancor from you and your son, I have rightfully earned by my own actions. Of that, I have always been sure."

He slid his hand from hers, wrapping his arms around himself beneath his jacket. Catching a glimpse of a young man running down the road, he turned his face towards the window to watch him pass. An excuse. His facade had slipped and he was too tired to raise it back up. Centuries of bowing and scraping and fighting the prejudice against his flesh under Gunmar and Bular just to ruin his only chance to actually be… wanted.

"Walt… I didn't mean to sound like… I don't… I might still be angry, but I don't _hate_ you."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I tried to kill your son. More than once. And… I used you. I don't know why I thought I could have it both ways. That Stricklander could be triumphant and Walter could still…" He trailed off after devolving into a soft mutter. He rallied with a deep but slightly shaky inhale, before turning towards her and speaking again. "I'm not particularly sorry for much of what I have done in my life… But I am truly sorry that it ever hurt you, Barbara."

The world stopped for a moment, as their eyes locked. He meant it. All of it.

She had played out so many scenarios in the rush of her painting or the quiet solitude of her bed. Now? All of them fell away, neither the righteous anger, nor the aching loneliness catching hold. She didn't want to forgive him, she wanted to be angry. She wanted to tell him to never set foot near her or her son ever again. She wanted to smack him a few more times with a broom and not feel like she was breaking her Hippocratic oath. She wanted him to have pressed his lips to her fingers like he used to.

The tension was cut with the loud thud, as a purple creature landed on the hood of the car. It leapt away just as a platinum blonde teen crashed into the car attempting to grab it. She smiled, saying something neither Barbara nor Walter registered and was off like a rocket.

Barbara had screamed and tried to push herself further back in the seat. Strickler's arm had appeared in front of her, like an overprotective parent who had to suddenly brake in traffic. A knife had found its way into his other hand from somewhere.

Both of them were motionless, only their adrenaline-fueled breaths breaking the silence. Barbara looked down at the arm shielding her, a tiny warmth tinting her cheeks. She gingerly brought her hands up and gently pushed. Strickler's head snapped towards her in response. A breath, then red and gold eyes dimmed back to green. A bright blush crept around his face and ears as he awkwardly retrieved his arm.

"I… I think we better get going…" Barbara said, fumbling with the keys in the ignition.

Slipping the knife back under his jacket and clearing his throat, Walter agreed.

They didn't speak again until they were in the store. Comparing Walter in the car to Walter in the store was like night and day. He smiled pleasantly and waved to any parents or students as if nothing was wrong. Like her son wasn't preparing to fight some super demon troll thing. Like there wasn't a looming threat to blot out the sun. Like he wasn't surprised that people would hate him if they knew what he really was. Like he hadn't just admitted he had expected her to hate him too. 

No, he was… obliging, doing any heavy lifting or reaching and offering little suggestions for ingredients and meals. It was slightly jarring but she also found some part of it achingly safe and domestic, in a way she didn't entirely want to admit. 

True to his word, he pulled out a credit card, swiping it without batting an eye at the large total. He even walked the cart back after unloading the bags into her trunk. Once the car doors were shut and the engine running, Strickler took a deep breath, dropping his smile.

"I have been considering your question about Merlin's motives." He said calmly, in an almost detached tone. She gave him a quick glance, eyebrow raised inquisitively. "He _needs_ the Trollhunter to defeat Gunmar. His plan likely hinges on it. I do not think he would do anything to jeopardize that victory. In that respect, he will not allow _harm_ to come to Jim…"

"I'm sensing a but…" Barbara interjected as the car rolled out of the parking lot.

"Yes. There is one." He continued smoothly, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his knee. In a brief glance, he noticed her grip on the wheel tensing. "Now, I admit that I am still sore about it, so perhaps I am being unfair, but I cannot guarantee that what Merlin has planned will necessarily also be in _Jim's_ best interests. We all have preconceptions of what Jim _needs to be_ to defeat Gunmar and desire to see him become those things. I fear you may be the only one who has Jim himself completely at the forefront of your concerns."

Barbara was quiet. "So... that means you don't."

"Ahaha well yes, I supposed that in the course of his… mentorship, there may have been moments when Jim's _personal_ well being may have taken on a...lesser...priority…" Holding a dagger poised over Miss Nuñez the other evening, possibly condemning Jim and Young Domzalski to an eternity in the shadowy void sprang guiltily to mind. As did giving Jim mood-altering substances during training… but that was under controlled conditions! Perfectly safe...ish.

"Walter Strickler. Goddammit." She pounded on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry! And it is not like I am exactly proud of those moments." Strickler admitted. "He's a good lad. He honestly didn't deserve this."

"We agree about _that_ at least."

"But… better that it be him than anyone else I can think of." He rubbed at his neck, avoiding looking at her.

_"WALTER."_

"No...that's not... I mean…" He stammered in response to her reproval. " _If_ I had to entrust the fate of the world to _anyone_ , it would be James Lake Junior."

"A SIXTEEN YEAR OLD BOY??"

"Well…" he winced. In avoiding her eye, something else caught his.

"All you _centuries old_ trolls and changelings-"

"Barbara?"  
"-and wizards _brimming_ with-"

 _"Barbara."_  
"-magical powers, couldn't come up with a war plan-"

"Barba-"  
"- THAT DIDN'T HINGE ON A _CHILD_ DOING THE FIGHTING FOR YOU?!"

"BARBARA. RED. LIGHT." Walt shouted.

There was a screeching of tires as she slammed on the breaks. Momentum carried them forward into the intersection, and the whole car rocked as they came to a halt. Another car crossing right in front of them honked long and loud as the driver gestured angrily.

Barbara slowly drove the car through the rest of the intersection and pulled over. She took long jagged breaths, gripping the wheel so tightly her hands shook. Wearily, she leaned her head against it.

Softly, Walt spoke.

"Barbara... may I… perhaps you would permit me to drive the rest of the way?"

"...... _fine._ "

Without another word, she undid her seat belt and exited the car. Walt followed suit, walking around to intercept her before she made it to the passenger's side. He brought his arm in front of her, reaching to hold her in a light but distant embrace. She was still shaking.

"Barbara. I am sorry that you and Jim have been placed in this situation."

"Amazingly, that part isn't actually your fault. It's not like _you_ singled Jim out to save the world."

"I cannot fathom why Merlin chose your son. But he has and now Jim is the Trollhunter and he will face Gunmar." Cautiously, Walt stepped in, placed his hands firmly on her arms. "Your Young Atlas would gladly take the world on his shoulders for the sake of others. That's who he was, before any of us wretched antiques laid a claim on him. I saw it. You raised a son of most admirable character, Barbara."

"Somehow that doesn't feel much like a compliment right now." She muttered, leaning against him. He hummed a response and gently pulled her closer. 

They stood quietly together, the rest of the world blurring around them. He rubbed her back comfortingly, as she gave herself the moment's weakness of a small cry.

"Barbara, you are not alone in all this. Or. You do not have to be. I… may not be worthy, nor perhaps most qualified but I, and everything I have are at your disposal should you ask it."

"My god Walt, if you are just being _nice_ …" She huffed wearily into his jacket, shaking her head and leaving a smear of tears on his lapel.

"My absence is equally yours to request… which I vow to honor, this time." he said solemnly, breath teasing at her hair. Feeling her head shift upward, he pulled back ever so slightly, just enough that they could look each other in the eye. The melancholy smile she glimpsed faded into one of his slanted grins. "Although I do beg you to hold off on that until this whole business is concluded. I can't have people saying this _changeling_ would slink off right before the final battle just to save his own skin. Why, think of my _reputation_!"

His mock-indignation drew a laugh from her. One she had not expected. She crushed her face into his chest to hide the wavering smile she couldn't quite defeat. She didn't want him to go. Part of her had never wanted him to go. She slid her hands up his back under his jacket, gripping him like a lifeline.

"I want you to stay." She whispered.

She swore she felt his heart stop momentarily, or maybe it was just his breathing. Pretty inaccurate diagnosis for a doctor. But then his embrace tightened around her, like both of them had needed a lifeline and it didn't really matter.

The sound of bicycles going by didn't really register, but the shout of a teenage boy did.

"GET IT MIS-TER STRICK-LERRRR!"

Walt and Barbara both jolted.

".......Palchuc-k." Strickler spat, eyes narrowing dangerously. He felt himself shaking, or more precisely, Barbara shaking. She really had tried to stop herself, but nothing could stop the burst of laughter that broke free like water from a dam. Strickler could feel his ears and then cheeks heating with a blush, yet in the end found himself chuckling along with her.


End file.
